Last week I received two parcels filled with vintage linens for my project. This work is without a name, which isn't unusual since titles often don't come until I'm deep in the process, but it would be helpful to refer to it as "The (insert brilliant title here) Project." I sometimes call it "The (expletive-expletive) Mouths," which they sort of are, but this project is more than kinky body reference and me being annoyed that I can't totally immerse myself in this one yet (also -- can you believe it -- "The Scream" is already taken. Drat). This project, like much of my work, is about voice and reverence, the created and the discarded. It's about history and narrative and distance and time and effort, it's about what is beautiful and what is hideous. And why. It's about work and process and destruction and rebirth. I've been meditating on it as I fall asleep each night, sure that by morning the Muse will have whispered a name in my ear, but so far she's silent. And this is fitting, because right now the items I'm collecting and the old handmade things women have sent all remain silent as well.

When you are a discarded thing, perhaps you become this way. Maybe you give up your voice, or lie dormant, or close your eyes and die. I've written about spirits dwelling within objects before.

This project is going to rattle them awake.

Origin: Sweden, Circa: possibly 1930-1980, Makers: Unknown

But first they are finding their way to me.​

And we are receiving them with great curiosity and joy.​

All the smells of lives lived and meals cooked, all the energy and spirit of the women who have made these things, all the lurid and the vivid and the obscure spilled into the room the night we opened this parcel from my Swedish artist friend Boel Werner. It's her second shipment to Alaska. I think she's having fun.

These are Swedish grytlappar -- very fancy cotton crocheted oven mitts and hot pads. Have they been used? A few of them, but most look pristine. As my good friend Oona always says: Save the best for never.​

Some are created with layered doilies, some incorporate 3-dimensional flowers.​

Others ... they are completely ridiculous. And charming. And from such a different era, constructed with leftover bits of this or that.​

But the strangest discovery within the two latest parcels of mystery, was finding that the most "authentic-looking" Swedish grytlapp didn't come from Boel's shipment, but from the one my friend and fellow textile artist Roxanne Lasky sent.

Roxanne was beyond pleased with her bad self when she found this in a charity thrift shop. Can you blame her? Of course, we don't know if it truly originated in Sweden, or if it was really made in 1940, but I'm 99% sure. We think it's commemorative, so if anyone knows more about this, I'd love to have that information.

(My daughter, age 7, below: also pleased with her bad self. Of course you should make a rainbow. Of course.)​

I hesitate to reveal the second item of interest that Roxanne was also pleased to send, because this is, after all, a family-friendly blog. However, it's just too hilariously crass to not share here:​

Indeed. Luckily there are plenty of outhouses in Alaska (and that, my friends, is not an open invitation to send more toilet seat covers, I'm officially cutting that off), however I have other big plans for this item.

​But back to these oven mitts for a second:​

I've been told the Brits call these "pan rests." So, what do you call them? The language is the other emerging piece to this project that feels vital, so please comment and let me know where you're writing from.

If you are new to this blog and wondering what in the world is going on here and why my home is overrun with doilies and toilet seat covers and why my husband is throwing up his hands every time he opens the mailbox, please pour yourself a cup of tea and check out a little backstory:

I'm enjoying the progress of your process. I call them pot holders - I started out in Pennsylvania and am now in Virginia by way of Massachusetts, South Carolina, Georgia and Venezuela (I didn't cook much there so I don't know what they're called there...). As I looked at your work this question popped into my head: Why is a woman's voice too hot to handle?

Amy,
That is too funny! Too hot to handle, indeed.
There's the other side to these makers' voices that has been silenced for so many reasons. How many women historically have buried their emotions with their needles? I know I have. I know my mother has. Many women who have given me vintage linens do so with much weight attached. These are an interesting medium to work with--so much more than potholders and doilies and table runners. There is a lot of lingering hope and disappointment within them as well.
I so appreciate your time commenting!
XO
Amy

Hello Sharon,
I will put "Texas: 'potholders'" into my massive spreadsheet! Thank you so much for reading and commenting here. I feel like something really vibrant has been cracked open and I appreciate the kind words.
XO
Amy

love how this gathering looks deep into the heart of one of the big sticking points with working with cloth as a medium, how the ordinariness of the materials & processes can marginalize ourselves and our art... & why we choose to do this? how often in interviews with fibre & textile artists the work is differentiated from the past by saying "this is not what your grandmother or auntie does"... and yet it is... you are asking the big questions with the development of this body of work

Mo,
Thank you for seeing so deeply. There is truth to the statement "this is not what your grandmother does," however, I think the point for me is that the work of contemporary textile artists couldn't exist without the hunched shoulders and stabbing tenacity of the women who came before us, passed on the skills, or offered objects that are worthy of our contemplation whether or not we see them as beautiful or useful in our daily lives. This is the part that gets overlooked or dismissed and everyone is so busy running away from the past (myself included) that there is a failure to see the rawness of the materials right in front of us. It is in our nature to make more and more and more, but how do we sustain this need?

This has been an interesting post with regards to comments and I am so appreciative of the opportunity to solidify my intentions as an artist in this space. It has been been a time of great internal growth. Thank you, as always, for your thoughtfulness and time, Mo.

Hi Amy!!
I am blown away by the beautiful textils that you ahve been sent form Sweden. I am of Swedish heritage and I have none of my grnadmothers pot holders left as we used them till they could not be used any longer! That is the way of the Swedes!! She and my mom are the reason that I work with textiles and I seek out the ones that will be discarded. I also let people know that I collect them and I do so to incorporate them into my art to honor the pierces and the women who spent hours in bad light, creating them!! The skills used to create these pieces are being lost and if not sent to you or to others who use them to give these women a voice they will no doubt be discarded. Thanks so much for sharing your fabulous collection and I cannot wait to see how far you take this!!

Elizabeth,
I am SO PLEASED that you also work with such items and have a history to share. I feel sad that the skills may be lost, yes, but the deeper loss is for the generation(s) that do not "make," in part because they don't know how, perhaps, but also because they haven't grow up with people around them making the necessary items for everyday living. Here is where art has an opportunity to bring awareness to a shifting cultural landscape. Should we return to poorly lit domestic chores? No, but to lose the joy and will that accompanies making items by hand would be a great loss. I so appreciate your comment and taking the time to read the blog.
XO
Amy

Reply

Elizabeth Woodford

12/15/2015 06:40:58 am

Each time I work with a vintage piece no matter where the source I think about the women who created the work and how they took great pride in their work. It becomes extra meaningful when I know the provenance of the piece. For example I made little fabric Christmas trees out of worn Swedish, red and white linen, dishtowels. the were towels that my grandmother brought with her from Sweden and that we had always used to dry our dishes. that takes me to cooking alongside this wonderful woman and now I see the towels which were used till they were practically transparent , and sporting some holes. sitting on my mantel! All of my family now have several of these trees in their collections of decorations. Honoring the past and inspiring people to create with their hands with whatever they have, is my goal in life. When we create we empower ourselves and we create rather than destroy!
We are definitely speaking a similar artistic language and I am so thrilled to have found your blog

Kate

12/14/2015 11:51:58 pm

Amy, I'm thoroughly enjoying your thought process; why women have always had the need to make things, both on a practical and emotional level.... a need to be occupied perhaps?(Oh the irony, as if we weren't already fully occupied!). I'm really interested in the emotional and cultural reasons, and I know that you are researching and questioning this thoroughly.
I am also really enjoying the arrival of your 'boxes of mystery', I can testify to the pleasure and catharsis derived from sending one, and the utter delight on receiving your thank you card.
Keep going Amy, you are providing a shape and form to questions that have niggled and irritated me for years.
I look forward to seeing your fifth box of mystery.

Kate,
Women do have a need to be occupied, but within the space of their minds. If one is held down by a male-dominated society, and/or tethered to the domestic realm by childcare and task after task, then I think one looks for ways to connect to the self -- no matter how artistic or creative one believes herself to be. There is something craftily subversive (and I mean crafty like a fox here) about churning out frothy doilies to cover the surface areas of a home and embellish domestic linens in an effort to make them as beautiful as possible. Not only were their male counterparts forced to wade through a sea of double crochet and satin stitch to get to that hot dinner, but women had tapped into the quiet realm of the mind while producing these items. Maybe holding a beautiful hot pad offered the direct route to that quiet space, perhaps they were occupying their hands, all in the effort of occupying their minds.

I first learned about "The Subversive Stitch" on one of your Pinterest boards, Kate. It's a slow read for my nighttime eyes, but has given me much to think about with regards to the women in my family and the items they produced, seemingly without end. I pushed against these objects for decades. It's time to embrace them.

Thank you so much for sending these beautiful things and for taking the time to comment here.

XO
Amy

Reply

Holly Hudson

3/4/2017 12:24:25 pm

pot holders, too. grew up in eastern Pennsylvania. I am 60 & have lived in Richmond, VA for the last 15 years....and now am Giggles or MorMor to 4 grandsons. I have been taking a series online embroidery classes from Brit, Karen Ann Ruane; she often uses vintage textiles. Since 2015, I have rescued many "wounded kitchen textiles"...hankies, embroidered tablecloths, napkins and bureau top linens. Some in a current class with Karen has invited us to read your wonderful story.

Thank you for reading and sharing your experience, Holly! I, too, had a Mormor and my mother is now Mormor to my children. I'm thrilled that my name was passed on to you from Karen's class and hope you'll enjoy following this little project.
XO
Amy

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Amy Meissner

Artist in Anchorage, Alaska, sometimes blogging about the collision of history, family & art, with the understanding that none exists without the other.​